by Peggy Webb
All he could do was hope Sandi didn’t mention it.
“When do we start?” she said.
“Today. After breakfast you go into Mother’s room as usual, and when I come in we’ll start a terrible argument. I can’t wait to see Mother’s face.”
“Oh, your poor mother. I don’t want to really upset her.”
“Don’t waste your sympathy on my mother. She’s fixing to get a dose of her own medicine.”
“Who starts the argument?”
“I’ll start, you just play along.”
“What will we argue about?”
“I’ll think of something.”
Sandi dressed quickly, thinking she would see Matt at breakfast and they would eat together in a friendly manner befitting coconspirators, but he wasn’t there. She lingered, hoping, but he didn’t come.
Grabbing her paints, she headed to his mother’s room. Lucy was not alone.
“Sandi, come in. I want you to meet my nephew, Josh.”
A tall dark-haired man with the most amazing blue eyes smiled at her.
“You’re even more beautiful than Aunt Lucy told me.” He nodded toward the sketches lying on her worktable beside the window. “You’re a good artist, too.”
“And you’re a preacher.”
She hadn’t meant to say that, but how in the world could she and Matt fight in front of a preacher, cousin or no cousin?
“Guilty.”
He had a winning smile. She’d bet half the women in his parish fancied themselves in love. That’s probably what she would be doing, too, if it weren’t for Matt. Not that she fancied herself in love, heaven forbid. She’d promised C.J. that the next time she fell for somebody he would love her right back, and Matt Coltrane certainly didn’t do that. He merely tolerated her.
And now he needed her. As much as she hated the idea of doing something that might make Lucy uncomfortable, she owed Matt. After all, she’d been the one who suggested they pretend to fall in love.
“Guilty of what?” Matt entered the room and Sandi could see nothing else. “Responding to Sandi’s flirtations?”
“What?”
“You heard what I said. You were down at the pool hall yesterday flirting with every man there.”
“I was not.”
Sandi didn’t have to pretend rage. For a make-believe argument, this felt real. Here Matt was carrying on like a jealous lover. She glanced uneasily at Josh, and he winked.
Was he in on it? Matt hadn’t said.
“I saw you, remember.”
“I was eating barbecue.”
“With five jocks standing around salivating?”
“Oh my goodness,” Lucy said. “Matt, what’s gotten into you? I think you should apologize immediately.”
“If anybody should apologize, it’s Sandi. Men don’t swarm around like bees after honey without some sort of provocation.”
“You’ve picked a beautiful woman, Matt. That’s all.”
“Mother, stay out of this.”
Sandi wanted to slap him. “Don’t talk to your mother that way.”
Matt turned toward his cousin. “Help me out anytime, Josh. It’s a conspiracy of women.”
Hands on her hips, Sandi marched over and shook her finger in his face. “You’re mean, and I won’t have it.”
“Careful, Sandi. You’re about to let your bulldog mouth overload your bird-dog bite.”
“And just what are you going to do about it, Matt Coltrane?”
“I know one thing I’m going to do. I’m going to see that you stay away from pool halls.”
“And just how do you propose to do that?”
“Tying you up in bed comes to mind.”
His eyes smoldered when he looked at her, and all she could think of was making love in a thunderstorm.
“Oh…” She put her hands to her mouth and Lucy came up off the pillows.
“Now, Matt, you stop this nonsense this instant. Take Sandi somewhere private and make up.”
Visions of making up with Matt turned Sandi’s cheeks pink.
“I have a better idea, Mother. I’ll leave her here. While Josh is preparing you for the great beyond, he can lecture Sandi about the wages of sin.”
“I think I’m going to be sick.” Putting her hand over her forehead, Lucy swooned onto her pillows. “Matt… Sandi…” She held out her hands. “Don’t leave me.”
“Well, of course we won’t.” Pierced by guilt, Sandi sat on the bed and patted Lucy’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Lucy. I didn’t want you to hear that.”
She was sincere. She hadn’t wanted Lucy to hear an argument between them. What she’d wanted, what she could never admit, especially to Matt, was that he come to her and say, “Look, I’ve fallen in love with you for real, so we can stop all these shenanigans and everybody can be happy.”
She sighed. Why couldn’t life have happy endings just like Lucy’s romance novels?
“You’re sweet.” Lucy cupped Sandi’s cheek. “Isn’t she sweet, Matt?”
“Selectively.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Sandi had thought the bogus fight was over. She was going to have a private talk with Matthew Coltrane. Tonight she was going to march into his room and…
Probably die of desire.
Sighing, she stood up. “I think I’ll make some tea. We could all use a cup.”
“Amen,” Josh said, and she knew good and well he wasn’t praying.
Matt was relieved to see Sandi go. Fighting with her had been harder than he’d expected. The way she’d flushed and become sparkly-eyed, she looked as if she took every word personally. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her all over again.
Having Josh in the room had made things a little better, but not much. In fact, when he thought about it, this whole ridiculous charade had been Josh’s idea. With the perfect clarity that comes with hindsight, Matt realized he should have followed his instincts. He should have simply confronted Lucy and ended the whole thing.
Nice and clean and easy.
Why not end it right now?
“Mother, we need to have a serious talk.”
“Yes, Aunt Lucy. About your funeral.” Josh had always loved a good joke, but this was going too far. Matt shot him a murderous look.
“My funeral?”
“Yes, it’s never too soon to plan.”
“But I’m not…”
“Not what, Mother?” Matt stared her down, daring her to tell the truth.
“Not sure about the kind of funeral I want.”
“I’m the resident expert, I’ll help you.” Josh pulled up a chair. “I was thinking something simple, no frills, no music.”
“No music?” Lucy almost jumped out of bed, then caught herself.
Matt suppressed a smile. Count on Josh to provide comic relief.
“You want music?” Josh said. “How about something simple like ‘Come Ye, Sinners’?”
“I was thinking about ‘Seventy-six Trombones.’”
“‘Seventy-six Trombones’?” Matt all but yelled. His mother was serious.
“Yes. I’d like to think my passing will be occasion for a parade. You know…” She started singing in a lusty, off-key voice about seventy-six trombones leading a big parade. Then she caught herself and had a fake coughing spell.
“Here, Mother, let me help you.” Matt patted her on the back with just enough force to make her think twice about pulling that stunt again.
“Thank you, dear. I’m quite all right now.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. About my funeral… Matt, you know I like ostentation. Josh, you ought to know it, too.”
“Aunt Lucy, I’m just trying to help you go out with dignity. Look—” he held up a dress that even Matt with his nonexistent fashion sense could see was the ugliest garment he’d ever laid eyes on “—I rummaged around in your closet while you and Matt were discussing music and found this. It’s perfect for you.”
“I wouldn’t wear
that to the dogcatcher’s.”
“It’s understated,” Josh said.
“It’s tacky. Your grandmother O’Banyon gave it to me one Christmas hoping I’d turn into some kind of uptight matron.”
“You certainly didn’t do that, did you, Mother?”
“For which we are eternally grateful,” Josh said. “Now, Aunt Lucy, we need to discuss makeup.”
“I want red lipstick. I look awful in pink.”
“For the sake of dignity and economy, I was thinking we’d forgo makeup.”
“No makeup? I look dead without makeup.”
“Well, maybe a little powder.”
“A little powder? Lord, I might as well be an elephant and go off into an elephant graveyard somewhere and just die.”
“Now, Mother. Don’t be so dramatic.”
“Go away.” Lucy put one arm over her eyes and waved them off. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
“We have to talk about it,” Matt said. “After all, didn’t you call me home to put all your affairs in order?”
He hoped Lucy would give up. He hoped she would tell the truth, admit her mistake, and then they could all stop the game of pretense.
“Well, yes, of course I did.”
“All right then, I think I need to go ahead and make arrangements with the undertaker, look at some nice reasonably priced, no-frills caskets.”
“No frills!” Lucy shut her eyes. “I’m going to take a little nap now. Please close the door on your way out.”
“Let’s see about that tea,” Josh said, and Matt followed him to the kitchen, both of them holding in laughter until they got there.
Sandi whirled on them, still in high dudgeon. “I don’t think it’s very funny. If you ask me, all of us need to sit down and clear the air.”
“Mother has to admit the truth.”
“Do you?” Sandi glared at him.
“Do I what?”
“Always admit the truth?”
Matt felt gut-punched. With a look that would sear a good brisket roast, Sandi marched out with her head held high.
“I see Aunt Lucy’s plan worked.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s more going on between you and the beautiful Sandi than a bit of playacting.”
Matt didn’t bother to reply. Over the last few days he’d been lied to, vamped, talked into trickery and deceit. He’d turned into a man who couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t think straight. He couldn’t even control his own treacherous body.
“Did you come on your motorcycle?” he asked, and Josh lifted an eyebrow but didn’t mention the abrupt subject change.
“I quit riding.”
“Quit? Why?”
“My Harley’s symbolic of my wild and woolly past. I’m trying to put all that behind me.” He clapped his older cousin on the back. “Maybe you can give me a few pointers.”
“I never sowed any wild oats.”
“Never?”
Matt had a sudden vision of Sandi with her hair spread across the pillow and her legs wrapped around his waist.
“Let’s drink our tea,” he said. “Maybe it will wash the taste of dishonesty out of our mouths.”
Sandi knocked on the connecting door, and Matt said, “Yes?”
“May I come in? I need to talk.”
“Come in.”
She pushed open the door and there he was, standing in front of the bed, shoeless, one sock off, one on. In spite of her robe and her noble intentions, she felt naked and fraudulent. Exposed.
His eyes raked over her and all of a sudden she wished she’d thought the whole thing through. She could have talked to him in the garden in broad daylight or even in the library after supper. Anywhere but here. Anyplace except this bedroom where he’d made her feel like a woman on a carousel circling the stars.
On the other hand, he’d avoided her all day. The last time she’d seen him was in the kitchen after their scene with Lucy, and she’d been in no mood to talk.
“If this is a bad time, I can come back later.”
“No, this is fine. What did you want to talk about?”
“Lucy. I don’t like doing what we did this morning.”
“I don’t like it either and I never should have involved you. I’m sorry, Sandi. Sorry for everything.”
“Oh, I’m not sorry….”
“But you just said you were.”
“Of course, I’m sorry about Lucy, but not about everything.”
They stood very still, watching each other, desire hanging between them as thick and rich as honey. She waded toward him, heart-deep, one hand outstretched.
“Matt…” She touched his cheek, loving the virile, sandpapery feel of late-night beard stubble.
“You can leave O’Banyon Manor.”
“You want me to go?”
“If you want to.”
“I don’t want to.” Hand still on his cheek, she stood her ground, trembling.
“What do you want, Sandi?”
Everything. She wanted a family of her own to love, with fat-cheeked babies and two golden retrievers and aunts and uncles and a wonderful old house that said welcome. But most of all she wanted a man who would love her and cherish her the rest of her life.
She stared up at him. When he bent toward her, she saw everything in slow motion—the light in his eyes, the curve of his lower lip, the tiny star-shaped scar on his left jaw.
The kiss was deep and long, tender at first, quickly escalating to a passion so intense Sandi thought her frosty-pink toenail polish was going to melt. The rest of her had. She was nothing except a pulsing mass of longing.
His hands slid under her robe and found her aroused nipples through the silk of her gown. She pressed against him, writhing, mindless, inflamed. Fabric whispered to the floor.
As Matt picked her up and carried her to the bed, Sandi realized that this had been inevitable from the moment she opened the connecting door. Why didn’t matter. The past, the future…nothing mattered except Matt and the magic she felt being in his arms.
His lips and hands touched her everywhere, searing her skin and igniting her body. She heard herself begging him for relief, pleading for release. He reached into the bedside table for protection.
“Anything for you, my love,” he whispered, but before she could ask about his choice of words she succumbed to spasms of pleasure that drove everything else from her mind.
With all her senses fully aroused, she opened to the silver blessing of moonlight and the exotic fragrance of jasmine wafting through the window. She absorbed the light from Matt’s eyes and the power from his taut muscles, exulted in the thick crisp texture of his hair, the sculpted beauty of his strong jaw.
The erotic journey they took was leisurely and reason-stealing, bold and tender, breathtakingly inventive and yet as old as time. He touched her in a thousand ways, but the one that stunned her most was the way he touched her heart and soul.
I’m in love. I love this man, truly love him.
Her newfound knowledge brought tears to her eyes. She was in love with a man who didn’t love her, would never love her. And yet knowing that, she still wouldn’t change a thing she’d done. How could she be sorry about losing her virginity in a romance-novel way on a sunset sail? How could she regret seeking shelter from the storm and finding it in Matt’s arms? How could she be sorry that she’d come to find a way out of the tangled mess they were in and had instead found her heart?
She closed her eyes against the tears, against the glorious spasm of sensation. She shut her mouth against the words of love that wanted to tumble out, against the truth that was stamped on her heart, newly minted and bright as a silver dollar.
If she had been another kind of woman, a strong woman like C.J., Sandi might have leaped out of Matt’s bed and said, “Wait a minute. What about love?” But she was a woman with a desperate need. Without the promise of forever, she needed to stretch the moment into morning so that when she left s
he’d have a night of passion to remember the rest of her life.
Liberated, a woman with nothing left to lose, she arched high, and when he rolled off, drained and depleted, she slid under the covers and brought him back to life.
With his hands around her waist he rolled onto his back and lifted her to the top of the world where she could almost see forever.
“What are you?” he murmured. “Some kind of sorceress?”
No. A woman in love. Keeping her secret, she leaned over him and stilled his questions with a kiss.
Lucy didn’t have any qualms about knocking on doors waking up her friends.
Dolly came out of her bedroom complaining, “The last time I got rousted out of sleep at five o’clock in the morning it was for sex,” and Kitty came out saying, “This had better be good.”
Lucy took a detour by the kitchen for a bag of chips and three diet sodas, then they took the elevator down to the basement gym. Lucy ripped open the bag and mounted the treadmill with a double handful of chips.
“That’s counterproductive,” Kitty said.
“Who cares, when the whole world’s falling down around my head?” Lucy consoled herself with chips.
“It’s not the world, Lucy, it’s your house of cards.” Kitty dug into the chips while Dolly sipped her diet cola in silence.
“It feels like the whole world. I’ve lied to my only son and he’s fixing to bury me in the ugliest dress I own.”
“You’re not dying,” Kitty said.
“Thank God.” Lucy climbed off the treadmill, winded. “Matt and Sandi act like they hate each other, Ben’s coming soon and I need to be writing.”
“The jig’s up,” Dolly said, deadpan.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Lucy said.
“I can,” Kitty said. “It’s time for the truth, and not just about our silly matchmaking scheme.”
Dolly banged her can down and headed for the door with Lucy calling after her, “Dolly? What’s wrong?”
When Dolly turned around she looked fragile. “You don’t need me for this discussion. The truth and I are strangers.”
Lucy started after her, but Kitty put a hand on her arm. “Don’t. She got news from her agent today.”
“Bad news?”
“It all depends on your point of view. After she finishes filming her next picture, she’ll be doing a stage play.”